


Carry on My Wayward Son

by carryonmywaywardcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryonmywaywardcas/pseuds/carryonmywaywardcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas find themselves found in a sticky situation with Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry on My Wayward Son

_Carry on my wayward son..._

 

Four days, Castiel counted. Four long and hard days with scarce food and anything to drink. His mouth was crying out for a mere sip of water. His back ached like it never had before, since he was handcuffed to his best friend, and they were both hunched over. Pain. Why was he in pain? Pain... Pain. This feeling seemed oh, too familiar, but he never greeted it, until this day. What was happening? Oh - that's right. This place was 'mojo' free. Nothing could be done here that had anything to do with angelic powers. If his powers were to work, they would be out by now. His neck was hunched over as he peered over to Dean. Maybe, if he was lucky, there would be a stray bobby pin or paper clip laying nearby. He had learned that trick from Dean, how to get out of handcuffs. Of course, there was none. The room was pure white with padded walls. No, they were not in a mental institution, they were in Crowley's trap.

  


They were there to initially save Sammy, and they did. Sam left to call for help, but of course, who did they know to help anyways? Hell, all of their friends were dead. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Castiel, well, sort of, Adam, Mary, John... The list kept going on and on. Ever since both of the Winchesters had gone to The Pit, everything was different. Their view of life, their way that they talk, and how they view the world.

  


_... there'll be peace when you are done..._

  


Suddenly, in the padded room which the two friends were in, all of the lights went dark to where it was a pitch black. Dean automatically began to tremble at the erie feeling that his brother was not in fact coming back with help, and Castiel had the same exact feeling.

  


"Hello, Dean, Castiel," Crowley scoffed in his British accent. He was the only thing glowing in the deep, dark room that seemed to go on forever. "Such a shame that your brother got away, I was gonna have so much fun with him!" Castiel grimaced at the thought of Crowley doing horrible things to the poor hunter.

  


_... lay your weary head to rest..._

  


"Where the hell is Sammy?!" Dean burst out. It was obvious that he was protective from the start.

"I told you, Dean, he escaped. Man, you Winchesters are slow, aren't you? Hah, I swear, Cas is the only smart one here."

Obviously, Castiel didn't say a word to avoid getting in trouble, but he was making a whole conversation in his head.

  


_... don't you cry no more._

  


“You two do know that those handcuffs are specially made for you. If you pull at them, razors go into your blood stream and veins. And if you somehow pick the lock, or find the key, poison is ejected to the other handcuff, making the other person die. So, you will listen to my orders, or you will die by default. Sound like a plan?” Crowley's voice was more raspy than normal, and his eyes were a deep yellow colour.

Castiel was completely shaken at this point. If Dean were to die, then he could not live, and the same was the same for his friend with blonde, spiky hair.

“Actually, they key is right over there,” Crowley tempted the boys, but Cas knew he could not be swayed, but, Dean could, since he was a mortal being.

  


_Once I rose above the noise and confusion,_

  


Crowley had then left the dark, and padded room with a laugh that pierced through the loyal hunter's skull and to his brain with a shrill cause. The lights flickered on and off at that point, which made the ambiance more creepy, in Dean's opinion. Of course, Castiel didn't mind it much, since he made that happen almost on a daily basis now. Dean felt as if he were on a crashing airplane, so he had tugged on the handcuffs to get out because he was panicking, and just as Crowley predicted, sharp demon blades cut through his wrist, revealing a round gash that circled around his wrist.

  


_Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion,_

  


Seeing his best friend's wrist completely caked in his own crimson blood, Cas shouted, “Dean! Calm down! We will never get out of this alive if you keep panicking!” He tried to put two fingers to his forehead to calm him down, but his mojo didn't quite work, and Dean's part of the handcuff was still cutting through his wrist. “DEAN!” Castiel shouted, and the lights shot on from the angel's voice. Dean then breathed normally and stopped panicking.

  


_I was soaring ever higher,_

  


“Dean! Dean, buddy, are you alright?” Castiel asked softly as he put his free hand to his friend's handcuffed wrist. He began to panic as he saw Dean was coughing up his own blood. The hunter let out a hoarse cough, releasing more blood from his throat.

“C-Ca-as...” Dean whimpered, which was odd for him. He never showed this state of agony unless he was in a major amount of pain, which from looking at him, you could guess that he was. “Cas... You're getting out of this alive buddy...”

  


_But I flew too high._

  


“No, I'm not, Dean. You have an important job to do. Me? I'm just a vessel. I'll come back,” Castiel protested, and obviously, Dean didn't buy it. Cas knew he was losing his grace, so if he were to die, he would be gone for good this time, but he didn't want to worry his friend.

“Castiel! You know you have to stop the apocolypse, and it is only doable with you and you alone. Gabriel can't, Balthazar can't, no angel can. Only you. Do you understand now?” Dean questioned, his eyes watering from both the mental and physical pain.

  


_Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man,_

  


An eerie silence fell over the padded room. Neither Castiel or Dean felt it was nessasary, but it was better than bickering over who would die, of course. This silence lasted eleven minutes and seventeen seconds, as Cas counted.

“We can figure this out,” Dean blurted as he trembled. “Cas, the key is over there. If we can figure out a system that we can unlock both at the same time, we'll both be okay.”

  


_Though my mind could think I still was a mad man,_

  


Crowley appeared again out of nowhere, which made Dean jump. At his startlement, the cuff cut through his and Cas' wrists, and both men winced in pain.

“I see you've made yourselves comfortable,” rebuked Crowley, “but, there's a catch here.”

“And what would that be?” Castiel questioned obliviously.

“You have ten more minutes. Ten minutes to figure out my little puzzle, ten minutes. If you do not do this in the time, I will shoot you both on sight, find Sam, show him your dead bodies, and shoot him. Sound like a plan?”

Dean was shaken up. The thought of his brother seeing his dead body again was too much for him. Even though he had a tough exterior, he was holding back a major anxiety attack. In all reality, he could really go for a beer right now to erase this all away.

  


_I hear the voices when I'm dreaming._

  


With a blink of an eye, Crowley was gone, and Dean was reaching for the key. The handcuff's demon blades cut through their skin, to the bone. Cas screamed, for he had not experienced pain this great in his life. Of course, he had limited experience with pain, but from what he could see, it was agonizing. The flesh of Jimmy's wrist was all torn on the inside, and a pure white bone was showing through the cuff. “D-Dean...” Castiel whimpered from the pain, struggling not to faint.

“Hey, hey buddy, calm down, you're okay. You're gonna get out of this alive.” In secret, Dean wanted Cas to pass out, because then he wouldn't struggle when he un-cuffed him.

“No, I'm not. You a-are, Dea-an,” Cas decided. Now, it was the falling angel's turn to cough up his own blood. The same hoarse cough which came from Dean's lungs was transfered to him, or so it seemed. Dean set a hand on him to try and calm him down.

  


_I can hear them say..._

  


Dean was completely concerned for one of the only people he cared for. It was only Sam and Castiel now, since John died. As Castiel finished, he wiped his mouth clear of the blood which sat on his lips with his free arm.

“Alright, Cas, we only have ten – make that nine – minutes. We need to make a plan, and fast, man. Uhm... You sure none of your mojo works here?”

Castiel shook his head. “If it did, would we still be here?”

“True,” Dean confessed as he let out a pitied chuckle.

  


_Carry on my wayward son,_

_There'll be peace when you are done._

  


With one swift move, Castiel grabbed the key from Dean's free arm. “The hell man?!” Dean shouted in anger. “We agreed you're getting out of here!”

“We never agreed, Dean,” Cas proved. “Now, hand me your chained arm, please.”

“You think I'm gonna give up that easy, Cas?” Dean scoffed, tackling Castiel to the ground, the hunter on top of the angel, trying to get the key. “Just give me the damn key!” In Dean's voice, fear was definetly heard. Castiel's hand was gripped tight around the brass key. Brass. Such an odd metal.

“Dean, trust me. I know your future, and it is destined for something great,” Castiel whispered in a calm tone.

“What do you mean?! I have no future, man! Why can't you see that?!” On the corners of Dean's eyes, salty, transparent water began to fall. Seeing his friend was in pain, Castiel set his free hand to Dean's wrist, forgetting the key was in his hand. As Cas was distracted, Dean quickly grabbed the key, but the angel of The Lord protested and covered the key-hole to his cuff.

  


_Lay your weary head to rest,_

_Don't you cry no more._

  


“Cas! Let go, please!” Dean pleaded in desperation. Knowing that he would never let go, Dean smashed his elbow to the angel's forehead, making him black out, only for a moment, though. With one swift movement, Dean moved his best friend's hand off of the key-hole, and set the key into the indented lock. “Castiel Novak, please forgive me,” Dean whimpered as he turned the brass key in the old handcuff. Almost instentaniously, a searing pain shot through Dean's wrist, making him scream and grimace in agony.

  


_Masqurading as a man with a reason,_

_My charade is the event of the season._

  


At his screams, Castiel awoke, free of the cuffs. “Dean.. Oh my god...” Cas scrambled for the key and let his friend free. “Dean, answer me, damn you!”

Weakly, Dean replied, “Hey C-Cas... I'm going t-to die... I c-can see him...” By him, obviously Dean meant Death, which he had greeted many times before.

“No no no no, Dean, don't you dare die!” Castiel's voice choked out as those salty things fell off of his chin. _This couldn't be happening. Oh my god, it's happening. Dean was supposed to save people... Hunt things. It's not supposed to end here!_ Castiel thought to himself as he set his injured hand to his best friend's face.

  


_And if I claim to be a wise man, well,_

_It means surely I don't know._

  


The beating of Dean's heart decreased with every single hoarse breath. The blood his heart pumped was now infected with a deadly poison, which Cas knew could kill a man within two minutes.

“Cas, man... I l-ove you... N-not in a gay way... Bu-ut as fr-riends... You were my only friend, exc-cept for S'mmy,” Dean confessed. His words began to slur, which meant he was surely fading, and quick.

  


_On a stormy sea of moving emotion,_

_Tossed about like a ship on the ocean._

  


“No, no no Dean, don't say that. You're gonna survive, I promise.” Cas whimpered as he put two fingers to Dean's forehead. Of course, there was no reaction since the place had blocked out his angelic magic. His grace was not his own, so he was falling, quickly. If he had his full power which he began this perilous journey with the Winchester brothers. He had been alive for so long in Jimmy Novak that he was getting used to the human ways, and he almost liked it. Feeling... It was nice. The emotions were not a good part of being human, or at least half human. It made him emotional; he never knew Jimmy was this emotional, at all. Being sensitive, Castiel began to shed tears again because he knew he would lose his only friend. Sure, Sam was there, but nobody could compare to Dean.

Dean lifted a hand to Cas' face. “Man... I'm going to d-die. You've got-tta accept it.”

“No, you won't. Even if you do, I'll bring you back -” Cas blurted as he shook violently.

“Castiel,” shivered Dean, and Castiel did as well as he said his full name, “I'm already living on borrowed time, man. J-Just let me go. Please.”

  


_I set a course for winds of fortune,_

_But I hear the voices say..._

  


Dean began to cough up his own blood again, but this time, the blood was black and blue. His whole body trembled greatly as he had coughed up the deep, thick liquid profusely. Castiel rubbed his back, knowing he was dying. With tears in his eyes, Castiel began to sing what he knew his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. “Dean... I know I am horrible at the concept of humanly singing, but I believe now is the... Appropriate time.” He began to choke up with tears, and Dean just listened to the raspy voice of the angel.

“Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion, I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high... Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them say...

“Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.”

  


_Carry on my wayward son,_

_There'll be peace when you are done._

_Lay your weary head to rest,_

_Don't you cry no more._

  


With the last words of the song, Dean made himself smirk through all of the agonizing pain. “Hang in there, feathers.”

  


Dean Winchester. Time of death, 4:05 A.M.

 


End file.
